


the fillorian climate & alice quinn's sense of humor

by herondale 4 (Littlelionman15)



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alice Quinn & Eliot Waugh Friendship, Awkward Quentin Coldwater, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Healing, Hurt Eliot Waugh, M/M, Moving On, Multi, Other, POV Eliot Waugh, Post-Episode: s05e03 Postmortem, Protective Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater Deserved Better, Supportive Eliot Waugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-20 20:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlelionman15/pseuds/herondale%204
Summary: my take on a really beautiful scene between alice and eliot from 5x03, added some dialog, changed a thing or two
Relationships: Alice Quinn & Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Kudos: 26





	the fillorian climate & alice quinn's sense of humor

„I was wrong before.“

Hearing Alice Quinn – the mastermind, the genius, the only person whom Eliot knew was likely to become a master magician – confess to being wrong was certainly an event of a lifetime. Geniuses like her weren’t big on admitting to their mistakes; the Alice he knew before she met Quentin, that shy blonde girl who paced alone across the campus, was probably one of those people, however, this new, grieving Alice… she was a different person.

“About what?” clutching the envelope of his letter to Quentin with his fingers, Eliot had asked, thinking that the answer to his question would be something boring.  
When he’d first met her, he thought of her voice as of being equivalent to that one side of chalk hitting the blackboard and producing a sound so annoying that it made everyone grit their teeth and cringe.

As there was no answer from the other side of the well, he’d glanced over at her.  
Alice was looking at the tips of her hiking boots, her dark-red glasses leaning at the bridge of her nose as she raises her head and looks over at him, greets him with the sharp glance of her steel blue eyes. “I was wrong when I called Quentin mine all those times.”

“Alice,” he scoffed, thinking to himself how absurd this was – she didn’t know about the other timeline, she only knew about the one-night stand with him and Margo – and took off some pressure from his grip on the letter. “Come on, that’s ridiculous. He was your boyfriend.”

Looking straight ahead of herself at the crystal-clear waters and the beautiful skies blending in at a distant point, Alice cleared her throat before she’d begun speaking.  
“At the end, yes.” She’d felt unease grow in her stomach.  
“Quentin and I had the beginning and the end. You two had the middle.  
It would be crazy and selfish to say that he was just mine, when he was yours just as much.”

A part of Eliot wanted to tell her to stop – why is she doing this, why doesn’t she just let his wounds heal like they were supposed to when they got all the way up here, to the well at the top of the hill – but another wanted to let her speak; it was nice finally hearing it said out loud and not just screamed from the top of the lungs every thought inside his head had grown. 

_God_ , he’d thought to himself quietly, _out of all the times I’d forgotten my flask, this one’s gotta be the worst.  
Note to self: never let Bambi talk you out of bringing your stash of the smoky salvation in the form of scotch again.  
Another note: repair your friendship with Bambi_.

“I was mad at him for a long time. I was mad at you and Margo, too, for having the threesome – but a part of me has come to regret all of it. Sure, I would most likely die again when we fought Martin Chatwin, but I wouldn’t leave him in such a bad place when I’d gone away.

The other part of me, though, doesn’t regret it.  
If it weren’t for the two of us splitting up, who knows if the things between you two would play out the way they did.  
I’m happy they have, though; I’m happy you got to know him the way I did.  
Knowing Quentin Coldwater was a blessing – he saved pieces of my life in ways that I never knew needed saving after I’d lost Charlie.”

Eliot’s eyes had begun tearing up. _Knowing Coldwater was a blessing?_  
Blessing my ass, the former High King of Fillory thought. He could never come near a peach or a plum again – what part of that was a blessing? Now he’d be deprived of that beautiful, fuzzy source of calcium for life and it was that little idiot’s fault.

“I know about the mosaic.”  
As the words parted with her light-painted lips, it looked to him as if an imaginary burden was lifted off of her shoulders; she took a deep breath and her whole body relaxed as fresh oxygen flooded it.

This caught him off-guard. “Wait, what?”  
This was Eliot Waugh – he’d had an answer to anything and everything, but the words that just entered his ears had knocked every last letter out of him.

“Q told me before we’d gotten back together” she said. “He thought I should know.”

“Damn it, Coldwater.” Eliot’s eyes were pinned to the blue skies in order to stop the tears, but that was as unsuccessful as his trial by wombat instead of combat.  
So she knew. She knew everything – about them traveling to past Fillory, finding the mosaic, having a family and growing old together. She knew about peaches and plums.

Suddenly, his world felt a little less small and a little less secure.  
Peaches and plums were their thing, goddamit – he hadn’t even told Margo about it, yet Alice Quinn knew about it.

“I’m glad you’ve had a lifetime with him, Eliot.”  
The smile on her lips was a sincere one – he’d seen her force a fake one – a bad fake one, since obviously the genius package she’d had didn’t involve acting – so many times before, that he’d grown somewhat familiar with the way her lips bent and the little twitch in her raised eyebrow. No, this was an honest one; there were tears in her eyes as well.

“I’m glad to have shared what little time I did with him” she’d wrapped her arms around her chest, as if to take a somewhat less-cold pose – the air was cold up here – but now, Eliot had seen past temperature and directly into the person beneath those red glasses;  
Alice wasn’t guarding herself from the cold – she was guarding herself from falling apart.

Without questions and without hesitation, Eliot wrapped his arms around her and let her lean onto his chest. She’d embraced him and as he felt her arms connect at the middle of his back, something felt lighter inside him.

He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only person missing Quentin that badly.

“It’s really cold up here, huh?” he’d tried to joke.

She giggled for a second. “Yes, the Fillorian climate is one of the strangest occurrences I’ve ever had the luck to witness, it changes within a millisecond!”

He’d started giggling, too, now. _Who’d say? Alice Quinn has a sense of humor after all_.

It would be a while until they speak again.  
They threw the letter into the well together, her holding one side and him another, both thankful for the silence neither has had the pleasure of enjoying recently.

He put his arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around his torso as the two set off to watch velvety clouds fly across the endless skies before their eyes, one last time before they head back to New York.

Losing Q was a horrible thing, but maybe something beautiful could blossom from the battle scars it’d left behind – an unlikely friendship, and maybe this was a nice way to start it.


End file.
